"To talk of many things...."

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

from Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll

That bit of nonsense sums up what things have looked like since I last wrote.  Here's what has happened since then:

• Tuesday, Oct. 27: The Santa Fe radiation oncologist got clearance from the Albuquerque radiation oncologist for me to be seen there.  His office faxes all paperwork to them.  He calls to let me know, and told me that if I didn't hear from them by noon Wednesday, I needed to call them.  He doesn't know exactly when radiation will start in Albuquerque, but doesn't expect that it will occur before Monday at the earliest.  So I am able to tell my speech and debate team that I will be able to go to the tournament this weekend - and we are all overjoyed at that news!!
• Wednesday, Oct. 28: By noon, I have not heard from the Albuquerque radiation oncologist, but I can't call since I'm too busy with school stuff.  So, after school, I call.  The receptionist is a bit snippy and tells me that everyone is working on this together - almost a "Don't call us, we'll call you" attitude.  When I tell her that I am only doing what my Santa Fe radiation oncologist told me to do, she softens a bit, but keeps up the attitude as I ask more questions.  I tell her that as a school-teacher, I need to make arrangements, which is the other reason I'm trying to get confirmation for when we will begin.  She softens a bit again and tells me she will write that in the information so the doctor will know.  But her final words are a repetition of "We're all working on this together - Santa Fe, Albuquerque, and the insurance."  So all I can do is leave it at that.
• Thursday, Oct. 29: No phone call, but given her attitude yesterday, I am not calling back....yet.
• Friday, Oct. 30: By noon, still no call.  I am in Albuquerque with my speech/debate team, and while we have a bit of down-time in the hotel, I call the Albuquerque office to find out the status of things.  She is delighted (truly, that's how her voice sounded) to tell me that "we are waiting for your doctor to send us his reason for referral - why he believes you need to be treated here.  Once we have that, we can talk to insurance."  So, I call the Santa Fe office, who are peeved (because my doctor had already sent everything required....).  They tell me that they will resend, and I should expect to hear something by Monday.  They call later that afternoon to confirm that they have sent the required document, but it has been sent snail mail, so they will be in touch Monday once they know that it has been received in the Albuquerque office.  They don't say that it's been sent certified, but given the attitudes (ahem) that have been going on between the two offices, I am guessing that is the reason it wasn't faxed (as it had been previously).  So, I continue with the tournament and put this out of my mind since I can't do anything until Monday anyway.
• Saturday, Oct. 31: Finish the tournament and head home.  Get in about 11:00 p.m.  My affected breast started bothering me sometime in the afternoon, but it felt more like a bruise in the beginning.  I thought maybe I'd hit myself somehow, and didn't give it much more thought.  But on the way home, it has begun to hurt more, and when I discreetly manipulate it (we're on a dark bus), it feels hard.  When I get home, I check, and it is red and warm to the touch.  I call my medical oncologist who sends me to the ER (we don't have Urgent Care in Los Alamos, and our ER is really like an Urgent Care due to the size of the town and the lack of need for much ER service, thankfully - they told me when I got there that I was the only person who'd come in all night).  They check, and agree that something isn't right.  They do a sonogram, and it's clear that it's an abscess.  They tell me that they don't have a surgeon on call at night, but the hospital in Santa Fe does.  They tell me I can either wait in LA until morning or I can head to SF that night and have their surgeon take care of it right away.  Given how fast it seems to have come up, they advise going to SF, and Steve and I agree.  We stop by the house to pick up a few things, then head to SF.  LA has given us paperwork to get us right in, and that is what happens.  I also remember on the way down that the affected breast had started to swell a couple of days before, although I didn't think of it that way at the time, and it didn't hurt or look weird (it just looked perkier).  We do make a point of telling the ER staff in SF this so that it is clear this wasn't something that happened suddenly today.  Their surgeon also does a sonogram, and agrees that it is an abscess; however, due to my cancer, she is uncomfortable doing what she would traditionally do - a needle aspiration - particularly if there is any skin infection.  She calls their on-call general surgeon for a second opinion, and he agrees that the best thing to do is to wait until morning when he will be in and we can do a "real" surgery.  So, I get to spend the night in the ER in SF - and I still wind up having to do the surgery Sunday morning rather than Saturday night.  Steve is given a cot and I'm given a hospital bed; they start my IV so I'm ready for the next morning.  We get to see the time change (something neither of us had ever been up to do before), so we see 1:30 a.m. twice :)  We sleep as well as can be expected when you are in a city ER.
• Sunday, Nov. 1: Sometime early, my medical oncologist stops by to check on me.  She agrees that it looks like more than a skin infection.  She's glad I'll be having surgery, and tells me she'll check on me again Monday.  A bit later, the surgeon comes in to introduce himself.  He tells me there is one other case ahead of mine, and once it is done, I will go in.  He also tells me that he will be sending a sample of tissue and of the liquid to the lab for testing.  He expects that we'll have those results by Wednesday.  Around 10 a.m., they wheel me to the operating prep room.  I meet the OR nurses and anesthesiologist, and the surgeon comes out to check on me.  Not long after, they wheel me in, and I transfer myself from the hospital bed to the operating table (that was pretty weird - I've always been out when I've gone into the OR before).  Not long after, I'm out - as in, I am asleep.  Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the recovery room.  Then they are wheeling me to my room.  I'm still pretty out of it, but our youth pastor has picked up Nate and they are there (I recognize their voices, but can barely keep my eyes open).  They brought Steve supper and me a Frosty (yeah!! - thanks, Ben and Kristin-who-had-to-wait-in-the-car!) since I've been told I can eat whatever I want, and when I had the lumpectomy, the Frosty was what tasted good.  It tastes really good again this time.  We visit for a bit, then Ben and Nate leave.  Steve sticks around a bit longer, but he goes home soon after they leave.  I spend the night in the hospital after contacting all necessary parties at school - my roommates (I share two rooms at school), my staff, and the parents of my students so that they don't panic when I don't walk in the next day.  Steve had already been in contact with the admin secretary while I was in surgery so that she could get a sub lined up for me - the surgeon had told me before I went in that I should take the week off.  I was particularly worried about the kids who had been at the tournament with me - to see me whole and hearty on Saturday and then hear I went to the ER and wouldn't be at school all week - well, if I were in their shoes, I'd wonder and worry.  So I wanted them to hear it straight from me that I was fine, that the tournament didn't cause this, and that they shouldn't worry.  After those emails go out, I go to sleep, and while I sleep better than I did in the ER, I have people coming in to check vitals on a regular basis, and because of the IV, I have to go to the bathroom quite a bit.  So it wasn't a super restful night.
• Monday, Nov. 2: The surgeon's nurse practitioner comes in and asks if I want to go home.  I'm glad to hear that it will be today since they'd told me it could be as late as Wednesday when we talked before surgery.  She leaves to go begin getting the paperwork ready.  While we were talking, the SF radiation oncologist's office calls and leaves a message to let me know they have spoken with the Albuquerque office, and they have confirmed that the letter has been received.  My pastor and one of the youth interns stops by, and brings me a London Fog from Starbucks (thanks, Doug!!).  We visit for a bit, but get interrupted by one of the nurses who needs to get vitals.  After they leave, Steve arrives with my clothes, and we continue to wait for the paperwork to get done.  They've had me on antibiotics all night, and the RN wants me to get in one more dose before I leave, so she puts one more on the IV pole and tells Steve and I to order lunch.  My medical oncologist stops by again, and she says no radiation until this is completely healed....meaning, it will be several weeks, but no one knows what that means specifically yet (more on that in a minute).  She tells me she will make sure the SF radiation oncologist knows so that he can contact the Albuquerque radiation oncologist.  While we wait for the nurse practitioner, a woman comes by to play harp for us.  It is absolutely beautiful!!  We visit with her for a bit, and find out that she is a Believer who uses this as a ministry.  She was taught how to play harp as a ministry by an organization in Montana - and now I know what I want to do when I retire!!  After she leaves, the nurse practitioner shows up with a ton of stuff to show Steve and I how to pack my wound.  I had heard of packing a wound before, but never really thought about the specifics before now - may I say: it is gross!!!  Steve is taught to pack my wound, since she begins the packing but has him do it so she can observe and make sure he does it right.  She makes sure we have an appointment with "wound care" later in the week.  This is the follow-up appointment, rather than coming in to see the surgeon again.  She tells us that they specialize in wound care and they will know much more about how to care for this than the surgeon's office.  I am both amazed and saddened to think that there is a enough business that there can be a business that specializes just in caring for people's wounds.  That appointment is scheduled for Thursday.  I am given enough packing supplies to last until that appointment, a prescription for pain meds, and told to go home and rest.  So other than a stop at the pharmacy, we head home.  
• Tuesday, Nov. 3-Wednesday, Nov. 4: I rest - a lot!!  I spend most of Tuesday sleeping, and then expect to get lots of grading and catching up done on Wednesday.  That doesn't happen - I am still too tired.  So I do very little other than rest (and get my wound repacked each night - the gross factor doesn't improve with repetition).  The radiation oncologist from Albuquerque does call on Tuesday - they apparently had not been called, and were not aware of all that had happened.  They agree that the radiation cannot happen until this is completely healed, so they tell me to call once I am cleared to come and we'll set up the initial consultation appointment.
• Thursday, Nov. 5: We go to the Wound Care clinic in Santa Fe.  They check, and we've done well with our packing.  However, they want us to use less of the packing so that we don't press on healthy tissue and/or prevent the wound from healing.  They give us enough supplies to last until the "box-o-supplies" arrives early next week as well as a wash they want us to use after unpacking and before repacking.  It smells like bleach, but she tells us it has no bleach in it.  We start this process that night.  We are told that we will continue to come down once a week until the wound is healed, and they tell us we can go ahead and make the initial consultation appointment with the radiation oncologist for mid-December with the understanding that we can push it back if needed.  We make our next appointment with Wound Care for next Friday.  They tell me I can go back to school on Monday.  They also have the results of the lab work - the liquid was a bacterial infection, and would not have cleared up with antibiotics alone.  They used the word "staph" but were quick to tell me that "it's not the staph you're thinking of."  Later, they ask if I'd been in contact with anyone who'd been in the hospital or if I'd been to the hospital - so all I can think is, "about that 'not the staph you're thinking of' thing....."  No one knows how this happened,  The best theory anyone has been able to come up with is that there was some kind of cavity (likely small) after the lumpectomy that filled with fluid which then became infected and became the abscess.  I do know that there was a hard lump in that area from almost the beginning; I've had every medical professional I've spoken with to check it - and they all said it was scar tissue.  It may have been, but that's where the abscess occurred.....  The tissue sample came back normal.
• Friday, Nov. 6-today: I rest and do very little.  I worked on school stuff yesterday (because I am going back, and there are some things that must be ready when I arrive).  I feel very behind, but hope that having this Wednesday off for Veteran's Day will help with some catch-up.  It will be good to see the kids again tomorrow, and get back to some semblance of normalcy....although, my "normal" is continuing to look a whole lot like the nonsense of Carroll's rhyme.  

So - a very long entry to let you know how crazy these past two weeks have been.  As things stand now, I have no idea when radiation will start.  If it can start by mid-December, that will still likely put me having radiation into the beginning of the Spring semester in January.  As disappointed as I was to have to deal with having radiation during school this semester, having to deal with it at the end of a semester is much easier than having to deal with it as the beginning of a semester.  I am hopeful that this will heal fully and quickly so that I am able to start radiation sooner rather than later and not have to have radiation once school starts again in January (that's a prayer request!).  But whatever happens, I have the assurance, and reminder, that God is in control.  Here's what I read in my Bible study this morning:

I've been going through Liz Curtis Higgs' wonderful study called It's Good to Be Queen about the Queen of Sheba.  Each week, we've had a phrase starting with "It's Good to Be...." and an adjective to complete that phrase.  The adjectives were pulled from the passage we were studying that week.  The one for today, the last one, was "It's Good to End Well."  And boy, did I need to be reminded of that!!  I have been pushing so hard for this cancer-treatment-stuff to all be over already, and I've questioned the Lord pretty vigorously this past week on "What are you doing??" since I had come to a place of surrender and acceptance with the radiation.  This latest bit of "cabbages and kings" seemed like a lot of nonsense and a bit of a step back.  But in today's study, I was reminded of several things.  Liz had sectioned this chapter off by giving some of the different definitions of what it means to "End Well."  One of those was "Ending Well means Knowing God is in Control."  Two comments were "Peace is knowing the results are in the Lord's hands," and "Each step of my life, I was exactly where I was supposed to be."  I chewed on these two truths: since the results, even of this set-back, are in the Lord's hands, then I can have peace if I choose to rest in that knowledge; I might even redefine this and not call it a set-back if I'm fully trusting that truth.  The key, once again, is in my choice (that refrain is getting old - do you think maybe I'm not listening as well as I thought I was listening?  As a teacher, I know you don't have to get a reteach if  you learn the lesson the first time, so maybe I'm not learning this lesson as well as I thought I was...).  The second statement hit closer to home - I met so many people this past week who were a blessing to me, but for whom I was also able to be a blessing.  I listened to so many stories this past week from people I never would have met otherwise.  All of them proclaimed themselves to be Believers, starting with, "I don't know how you believe, but..." and continuing to tell me their story.  Each had met my Lord, and each had a beautiful story to tell.  But each had an area of doubt they were struggling with, and as I listened, I was able to encourage them as well.  I thought at the time it was odd that they were sharing these things with me - someone they'd just met - but God obviously had a purpose in my being there to listen and to encourage them.  So although I was not happy with having to deal with this at this time, I can see how I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Surrender - that's the overarching lesson God seems to be trying to teach me.  It's a tough one to learn.  Particularly when it sometimes seems as if He is asking me to surrender to things that appear to be nonsense to me.  "But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise...." (I Corinthians 1:27).   

I confess to being completely confounded, Lord.  Lately, You've chosen to use a lot of what looks like foolishness to me to bring me to a place of surrender.  But I know that nothing You do is without purpose, so if You need me to talk of cabbages and kings for a while, I'll learn to rest in that.  I surrender all, even my desire to speak of things that make sense.  Your thoughts are higher than mine, and I trust Your purpose, even when talking nonsense.   

Learning, again, to surrender,
Sherri

More News on the Radiation Front

My radiation oncologist called this afternoon.  It seems that there is a possibility that there may be a better machine in Albuquerque to do the radiation than the one in Santa Fe.  He called to ask me for permission to contact them and see about my going there for radiation.  Here's what that could mean:

• The other machine is supposed to be able to better pinpoint where the radiation hits, but my doc was going to check and make sure this was true.
• The docs in Albuquerque need to agree with the conclusions my radiation and medical oncologists have drawn about where to put the radiation before my current docs will agree to having me go to Albuquerque.
• The docs in Albuquerque will have to be able to get me in in a timely manner (meaning, soon) in order to keep me on schedule.
• The docs in Albuquerque will have to be able to prove that the change of venue would indeed make a significant difference in the radiation treatment to warrant my going that distance at this time of  year.

I was a bit taken aback by all of this today.  I had all my ducks in a row, and now they have been scattered across the pond!  I came to a place of peace about all of this yesterday in church - God had these songs lined up yesterday for worship:

•  "Come, Now is the Time to Worship" - I asked Him to help me focus on Him during the service rather than my fears and worries
• "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" - one of my favorite hymns, and this is where God really began to speak.  One of the verses says, "What have I to dread?  What have I to fear? Leaning on the Everlasting Arms; I have blessed peace with my Lord so near, leaning on the Everlasting Arms."  At that moment, God whispered to my heart, "Am I still near?"  "Yes, Lord!" was my swift reply.  "Then why are you afraid?"  I had no answer.
• "Your Grace is Enough" - once again, He whispered to me, "Has my grace changed?"  "No, Lord!" was my swift reply.  "Then why are you worried?  My plan remains the same.  No matter what happens now or in the future, it is not a surprise to Me.  It has been filtered through My fingers.  And My strength will not change - it is from everlasting to everlasting, just as I AM, and it will continue to sustain you no matter what happens, now or in the future."
• "Lord I Need You" - I sang this through tears, with all my heart
• "It is Well With My Soul" - again, lots of tears, as I once again placed everything back in His capable Hands.

I was emotionally wrung out yesterday after church.  I spent the afternoon emotionally and spiritually resting (wrestling matches make you tired!).  I had another round of chemo this morning, and expressed to my medical oncologist some of my concerns, although I was clear with him that I was at peace with doing radiation.  He said he thought I needed better information from my radiation oncologist....and then I got the phone call this afternoon.  Makes me think they talked!

Although the radiation in Albuquerque sounds good on the surface, I am a bit concerned about traveling that far.  For those of you who don't live here, the trip to Santa Fe (where I was - maybe still am - supposed to have radiation) is about 45 min.; the trip to Albuquerque is 1 1/2 to 2 hours, depending on what part of Albuquerque we're talking about and traffic and weather.  We hit the time change this weekend, so it gets dark here about 5:00.  Add to that that we are in an El Nino year, and we are already seeing the effects of that here in Los Alamos.  Getting stuck in Albuquerque due to weather is a much more real scenario than getting stuck in Santa Fe due to weather.  There is also the fact that I would get back from Albuquerque quite a bit later than I would get back from Santa Fe, even if we can keep my appointment time the same as it is now.  That will make getting my grading and planning done during the week more difficult.  So - this is not a small decision.  If I were to put it in speech/debate terms, there is a cost-benefit analysis that needs to happen, and it needs to happen quickly.

My radiation oncologist was going to try and get in touch with the Albuquerque docs this afternoon and hoped to give me some kind of direction tomorrow.  I'll be in class tomorrow, and unable to pick up my phone while class is going on.  That means I'll have to call him back during one of my breaks if he calls during class (I know my admin would totally understand if I picked up the call during class, but it wouldn't be an easy conversation to have while I have students in front of me....).

SO - please pray for wisdom for the docs - and for us.  I haven't been asked for my opinion/permission on much of anything up to this point, and now that I am being asked, it's a tough call to make.  There are lots of things to weigh, and while I want what is best for my health, the stress of traveling daily to Albuquerque, particularly if we have weather like we're expecting, may offset any potential benefits in getting treatment there.

Leaning on those Everlasting Arms harder than ever,
Sherri 

Radiation - dates and other information at long last!

So, this past Wednesday, I went in for my "radiation simulation."  I was told that it would be exactly the same as when we do radiation "for real," but without the radiation.  They said it would be just x-rays, which would be used to measure my insides as they prepped exactly how to give me the radiation, and that they would give me my "tattoos."  So here's what all that looked like:

• You lay on a table to have a CT scan.  Your hands are above your head, and they have to stay that way while you go through the machine.  They have poles for your hands to grab, which the technician said was "to give your hands something to do" while you're going through the machine and to help keep you still.  
• When I went in for the appointment, I wasn't sure whether they were going to do my neck or not, but it appears they will be hitting my neck also (that "inconclusive" PET scan bites again).  Since they are planning to hit my neck as well as my affected side, I had to turn my head to the side to expose the neck (that was an awkward way to lay).  
• Before they put you in the machine, they make marks on you with a Sharpie; these are your "non-permanent" tattoos to help them get you onto the table and into the machine in exactly the same way next time.  Since my radiation is for breast cancer, I was given marks on my chest and sides.  When I went back to get dressed after the CT scan, I thought I looked like Frankenstein's monster since the marks are a series of green and purple lines and crosses. 
• After they are completely satisfied with how you are laying, they send you through.  It took less than a minute to actually ride the table through the machine.  The technician told me that the time to get you set up takes longer than the actual scan or the actual radiation, so I guess this was prep for that :).  
• When they finish the scan, they re-mark you to make the marks just a bit darker, then put clear plastic tape over the marks, and instruct you "not to scrub them hard" when you bathe but to "let the water flow over them" so that the marks remain until next week, when you'll get your real, permanent tattoos.  The tattoos are, I am told, small round dots that help them to make sure you are lined up the same every time.  They used the words "needles" and "ink," and the phrase "under the skin" to describe what they do, and they do use the word "tattoos."  Since they are under the skin, with ink, I don't know why they'd call them anything else :)  They say I'll get five of those when I go in next week.
• The technician next took me through the procedure for my daily visits.  When I arrive at "radiation headquarters," I sign in at the front desk, then go through to the radiation patients' waiting room.  My driver waits in the big waiting room where I signed in.  The waiting room I go to is behind a locked door, and she gave me the door code to get in.  I am to put in the code, then go through to the waiting room where I use the dressing room to change into my robe and wait my turn.  After I'm done, I'll return to that waiting room to change again and then head back out to the big waiting room where I'll pick up my driver and can head home.  
• They tell me the entire process in the office with take about 30 minutes, except on Tuesdays, when I'll meet with my radiation oncologist.  He meets with all his patients on Tuesdays to check in and see how they are doing.  So they tell me the Tuesday appts. will be a bit longer than 30 minutes.

They also gave me my start date: next Wednesday, although, the real radiation will begin on Thursday.  They said that Wednesday they will only do x-rays, which will be a last check to be sure everything is measured correctly and lined up right.  So all the "fun" begins on Thursday next week.

I have the following dates on my Care Calendar as dates I'd appreciate help with transportation, since so many of you have asked to drive.  Steve wants to take me to some appointments, which is why there are some gaps in the schedule; they also told me they will be closed on Thanksgiving and Black Friday, so I won't have treatments those two days.  Here are the dates I have open for help:

Oct. 30
Nov. 2-5
Nov. 9-10, 12-13
Nov. 16-19
Nov. 23-25
Nov. 30-Dec. 3
Dec. 7-11
Dec. 14-15

My appointment is at 3:15 each day, so I'll need to leave Los Alamos by 2:15.  I am leaving LAMS no later than 1:30, so I'll have time to go home and change and be ready to be picked up.   If you would like to help with driving, visit http://carecalendar.org/logon/209524 and enter the following information in the appropriate spaces, then sign up for a slot:

    Calendar ID   :   209524
    Security code :   9616

They have said that if the weather gets bad (which it could - the fog was awful when Steve and I went down this past Wednesday, but it cleared up once we left the hill), they don't want me to feel I have to be there - they want me to be safe.  So if the roads are unsafe, I am to stay home and call them to let them know.  They said they'll tack a day onto the end if this happens.  They may also have machine breakdowns ("They don't happen often," they told me), which could also mean I am not to come.  They said they would call me if that happened so I can decide if I still want to come later (if they can get me in) or not.  They have two machines, but if one breaks, it will put things behind.  They do their last radiation appointment at 4:30, so there won't be a very big window to get me in if there is a problem; on the other hand, there won't be many scheduled at that time of day to try to get in if there is a problem :)

I was given another large packet to read.  I am hoping it will give me enough information to relieve some of my fears - I confess that this one is still scaring me more than the rest, maybe because I knew more about chemo and surgery before I got cancer than I knew about radiation.  What scares me?  The thought of getting a really bad sunburn for one thing.  I've had plenty of those in my life - the worst one gave me a third degree burn.  It took me years to accept the fact that I was never going to tan, but once I did, I didn't want to ever burn again.  And now, I'm being asked to go in to intentionally put myself in a position to potentially get a burn. 

Another thing that scares me is what the long term effects will be.  The packet is supposed to address some of these, so I am hoping I'll feel calmer once I've read it. 

The last thing that scares me is how I'll juggle everything.  When I started putting together the logistics of this, I realized that I'd get home between 4:30 and 5:00 if I'm lucky.  Then I have to do my planning/grading for the evening.  This fear is really no different than the one I had when I started chemo, but it's the fact that in my own head I was done with the "hard" stuff...and this is turning out to be harder than I expected (although, some might say I'm borrowing trouble since it may not be nearly as bad as I am now anticipating - and they might be right....). 

The last thing is not a fear but a feeling.  I hate, and I do mean hate, having to miss more school.  My 8th period class won't see me for the rest of the semester (I might be back for the last two days, if we don't have to tack days on the end, but otherwise, I'm not going to see them again this semester).  I am having to forgo at least two speech/debate tournaments because of radiation, which hurts more than I can say.  I have such a passion for the activity and my Hawktalkers that missing out is extremely hard to accept.  When we sat down with the calendar this past week to map out dates, I cried when I found out how much I was going to have to give up with these guys. 

I am SO done with cancer and treatments!  It's making me impatient and fretful.  I know this is the final lap, and someone recently reminded me of the exhortation in Hebrews 12:1-3: "Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."  This was right on the mark - my fear and worry are sins since they are entangling and encumbering me from living in peace.  My devotion this morning was on one of my favorite verses, Psalm 56:3: "When I am afraid, I will put my trust in You."  The combination of these two ideas so close together says, "Get out of the Pity Pit, Sherri!"  And part of me wants to do that - to stand again on my Rock....but another part of me is tired and done and wants to wallow in the Pit for a bit - which is also not living like one who has the Rock as her foundation.  So how do I do this?  It's a choice.

I can choose to wallow in the Pit, dwelling with Fear and Worry, allowing them to whisper "sweet nothings" in my ears, but that fills my heart with - nothings.  It creates emptiness and anxiety, and puts me on a cycle that reminds me of the hamster on the wheel. 

I can also choose to follow the exhortation in Hebrews and Psalms: put my trust in Christ, my Rock and Sustainer, laying aside the encumbrances known as fear and worry, running with endurance this last part of the race known as cancer.  One commentator put it this way: "let us run, not waiting for a pleasanter, easier course, but accepting that which is appointed and recognizing the difficulties as constituent parts of the race."  But to do that I'll have to re-fix my focus on Christ, not Fear and Worry; I'll have to trust Him with all that scares me and makes me anxious.  Interestingly, the writer of Hebrews seems to know that when I don't keep my eyes fixed on Christ I am going to grow weary and lose heart - exactly what I've been feeling lately.

That word "endurance" is the real kicker.  In the original Greek, it's "hupomone," a word often translated "patience" in English.  It literally means to "remain under" and refers to situations and circumstances in life - being patient under the burden of things we find trying.  Sounds way too familiar.

I know from when Nate ran cross-country that the end of the race was the hardest - he was physically tired and the temptation to quit was strong.  But you couldn't get the prize or even claim to have finished if you gave up before the end.  That kind of running required endurance, and in the end, it paid off.

So I am choosing to endure, to remain under the burden of this last part of the race, to not give up, to not lose heart, to keep my eyes fixed on Christ.  His burden was so much heavier than mine, and I am sure He more than anyone understands how hard the race can be at the end.  I will rely on His strength to see me through until I have finished radiation.  And I will continue to be thankful for you, my great cloud of witnesses.  Your encouragement and cheering from the stands is part of what keeps me running for the prize.  I look forward to the day we can all cheer because it's all behind me.  Thank you for your faithfulness in staying in the stands to the end.

Tired, but still running,
Sherri




 

Radiation - two steps forward, one step back

So, as most of you know, I had my "pre-radiation" appointment Sept. 23, about a week and a half ago.  I was disappointed that we didn't set dates for radiation at that meeting - it was more for the purpose, I found when I got there, to meet the radiology oncologist, hear what he needed me to know, and allow me to ask questions.  Some of the things he told me were:

• They will avoid my lungs and ribs as much as possible, but will likely not be able to avoid them altogether.  That means there will be a scar on my lungs from the radiation, and my ribs will be more brittle in that area.  These will be long-term effects because the radiation will shrink the blood vessels in that area, so the bones will not be able to recuperate completely.
• Because my tumor started out at 5 cm, they will be giving me 6 1/2 weeks of radiation.  5 cm is apparently the threshold they use for determining lots of things, and when you start with a tumor that large, the current medical wisdom is more radiation, not less, even if the cancer "appears to be gone" from your body.  They worry that with a tumor that large, microscopic cells may have been missed in areas not touched by the surgery (such as the lymph nodes below my breastbone and in my neck, even though they showed up clean on the most recent PET scan).  The doc did say he will be looking at that most recent PET scan before deciding how broadly to do the radiation, particularly since the biopsy of the lymph nodes in my neck so many months ago came back inconclusive (that darn biopsy is sure causing a lot of worry on the part of the docs).  He seems as amazed as anyone else that a tumor that large is completely gone - I get the feeling this doesn't happen very often.  He is unwilling to believe that the cancer cells are completely gone.  I am praying his disbelief isn't causing him to do more radiation than is truly necessary, so I am trusting God with this one, praying that He will touch the heart of the doc if the breadth or depth of the radiation is more than is really needed.
• We could start the radiation either early Oct. or late Oct., but there were two reasons we decided to start in late Oct.: 1) the doc was leaving for vacation and wouldn't be here for the first three weeks of radiation if I started early in Oct. and 2) my left arm was still pretty stiff from the surgery when we saw him, and he wants me to be as limber as possible before we do the radiation.  He told me that I will have to stay in one position for about 2 min. (that's as long as it takes in the machine, he says), but I will have to lay with my arms above my head holding onto a bar of some kind.  My arm has limbered up quite a bit since I went to see him a week and a half ago, but the tendon under my arm is still somewhat tight, and there is still some pain associated with that that sometimes runs down that arm and into my wrist and/or hand.  He made a referral to a physical therapist and lymph-edema specialist so that I can have my arm checked out and to make sure I don't do things that could make it worse.  I have my next chemo round tomorrow (Monday), so I'll be asking the medical oncologist about this since neither the PT nor the lymph-edema specialist have called (and they were supposed to - the referral wasn't for me to call them).  And if you don't know what lymph-edema is - I wouldn't have if I hadn't gone through this - it's swelling caused by too much lymph, the fluid produced by the lymph nodes.  It is a possible side-effect of the removal of lymph nodes (I had only one removed, so my risk factor is pretty low for lymph-edema) and radiation.  If not properly cared for, it can cause lots of issues down the road.  The radiation doc didn't seem too worried by the tight tendon, and said I had more range of motion than he would have expected, but he was a bit concerned about the amount of swelling still existing under my arm - thus the referrals.
• The appointment when we DO set the dates for radiation is set for October 21.  They call this a "planning appointment" (the one I had in Sept. was apparently a "pre-planning" appointment).  At this appointment, they will put "tattoos" on me so that they line me up in the exact same place every time I go in.  They will take lots of x-rays to use in strategizing and making measurements, partly to make sure they do avoid my lungs and ribs as much as possible, and partly to ensure that they completely avoid my heart - they made it clear they don't want to hit that at all.  They told me that it will be about a week after this appointment that I begin my radiation, so that means either sometime the last week of October or the first week of November.   Once I have dates, they will go up on the Care Calendar.

I will say that this appointment, for whatever reason, was the scariest for me since that first appointment way back in April when they did the first biopsy and told me that from what they could see on the machine, the tumor looked malignant.  Then, I was afraid that the cancer wouldn't be survivable; now, I'm afraid of the long-term effects of the cure for the cancer.  I've heard some jokingly say that if the cancer doesn't kill you, the treatment might.  I'm coming to understand what they mean all too well. 

I think that at some point in all of this I heard that my life would never be the same because of the cancer, and part of me understood and believed that: never again can I mark "no" beside those "Have you ever had...." questions at the doctor's office; never again can I claim to have a completely clean bill of health; never again will I be able to take my health for granted, because there are things I have to think about now that I never would have had to think about before.  Part of this I understood.  But part of it I didn't, and hearing that the scarring on my lung could possibly cause me to need oxygen later in life, that being in a car accident at any point down the road could cause me to have broken ribs (not that that wasn't a possibility even without cancer), that I will have tattoos (and not the pretty kind that you get to choose) on my skin as more permanent reminders of all of this (as if I don't already have enough scars to remind me) was about more than I could handle when we left the doctor's office a week and a half ago.  I fought tears all the way home, and still fight them now sometimes when I think about this too hard.

I think there are many reasons for this.  First, I thought I'd put the scary stuff behind me.  Everyone I talked to said that chemo was the worst part of cancer - and even though the recovery from surgery wasn't my idea of fun, it was certainly waaaaay easier than chemo.  So facing radiation seemed like a piece of cake before I met with the doc.  Second, I think that having gotten such a great report from the surgery made me a bit too hopeful that they would cut the number of weeks I'd be required to do radiation (they initially told me 5 weeks), so to hear that I'd be doing even more than what I'd first been told was tough.  Last, I'd heard from so many people that "radiation is nothing" that I didn't really consider that there might be side effects beyond the burnt skin.  It was beyond hard to hear that now I'll need to be aware of how I breath every time I climb a flight of stairs. 

I'll admit to a bit of Scarlett O'Hara syndrome with this - the "I'll think about that tomorrow" mindset.  Avoidance is a strategy that can come in handy at times.  But I can't avoid looking this in the eye forever, and every time I do, it stares back with a mean eye that has me shaking in my boots. 

Yet I know that "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and discipline." (2 Timothy 1:7)  Think about the juxtaposition of those ideas: fear, power, love, discipline.  What that says to me is that the tools to fight fear are power, love, and discipline.  As I rely on God's power in this part of the journey, He will remind me of His faithful love.  When I discipline my mind to remain steadfast on Him and His power and love, He will keep me in perfect peace, because that steadfastness demonstrates my trust in Him (Isaiah 26:3).

So the conclusion I've had to come to is this: my life has never been my own.  I gave it away to my Savior years ago.  He is in charge for how ever many days He chooses to leave me here on this earth.  The cancer hasn't changed that - it's just made me count my days more carefully and recognize their brevity: "So the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.  For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust.  As for man, his days are like grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourishes.  When the wind has passed over it, it is no more, and its place acknowledges it no longer.  But the lovingkindness of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him, and His righteousness to children's children, to those who keep His covenant and remember His precepts to do them." (Psalm 103:14-18).  My job is not to live in fear of cancer or its side effects, but in fear of the Lord.  He knows "when I sit down and when I rise up; [He] scrutinize[s] my path and my lying down, [He is] intimately acquainted with all my ways....[and He has] enclosed me behind and before, and laid [His] hand upon me.... If I say, 'Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night,' even the darkness is not dark to [Him], and the night is as bright as the day....  In [His] book were all written the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them." (Psalm 139:2, 3, 5, 11, 12, 16).  He knew, long before I did, that cancer would strike in April of 2015; He knew how dark I would find the path at times.  Yet He prepared me for this trial long before He took me down this path.  And no matter how dark or long it has been, He has never left me.  I know that just as He has had the results of the first biopsy, and the 2nd biopsy, and the chemo, and the surgery in His hands, He has the radiation and its results, short and long-term, in His hands.  His faithfulness is everlasting; blessed be the name of the Lord: "The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runs into it and is safe." 

Running into the safe, strong tower of His name, where fear and darkness have no place,
Sherri

Clarification

I've had several people ask me what the fact that I'm cancer-free means.  "Does that mean you won't have to do radiation?  Does that mean you won't have to do any more non-ooky chemo?"  The answer to both is "no."  I will still have to do radiation  (although it might be less than 5 weeks worth, we'll have to wait and see), and I will still have non-ooky chemo through April.  The best analogy I can give is antibiotics.   You have to complete your antibiotics even when you feel better for them to complete the job.  In my case, the radiation and chemo are maintenance which is supposed to keep me cancer free.

Keep in mind that while the fact is that there is no cancer left in my body, the medical community won't say that officially for 5 years.  That's another reason for the radiation and chemo to continue - it is recognized medical best practice.  

My surgical oncologist wants me to have a month to heal before starting radiation.  Her office puts in the call to the radiology dept. as a referral,  which she said they would do last week.  Then radiology will contact me to set up a pre-radiology appt, where I will meet my radiology oncologist.  S/He will have reviewed all notes from the surgical and medical oncologists and will make a recommendation for when to start radiation and how many weeks to do.  Right now, it looks like radiation will start mid-Octoberish, but I won't have firm dates until I meet with the radiology oncologist.   I will post the date of the pre-radiology appt once I know it.

Thank you all again for all your prayers.   I'm not sure I've fully accepted the fact that I'm cancer free yet - I still wake up and have to pinch myself!  Our God has done "exceedingly abundantly beyond all we could ask or imagine" as I personally never expected this outcome prior to radiation.   I stand in awe of God's magnificent healing for me....I don't know why He chose me to heal when so many others don't get that, but I am thankful for His healing hand on me.  I have to wonder if those Jesus healed while He was here on earth felt the same way, and how long it took them to stop pinching themselves when they woke up each day.  I can guarantee you they never took their days or health for granted...I have a new appreciation for both.

Continuing to praise His name,
Sherri

Post Op

I am COMPLETELY cancer free!!!  When she did the surgery, she found "no distinctive mass," meaning, she found NOTHING to take out!!  She did take out the clip and calcifications, but there was nothing there!!!  She told me this is the best report she's given in a long time. 

Sing with me, "What a mighty God we serve, what a mighty God we serve. Angels bow before Him, heaven and earth adore Him, what a mighty God we serve!!" It is by His hand alone that this has come about, and your prayers have played a huge part.  Thank you for your support and prayers.  God is good all the time, but I am very thankful that He has seen fit to make healing part of my journey this side of Heaven!!

Full of rejoicing,
Sherri

Surgery aftermath

Here I am just before going in for surgery (this was a lumpectomy) yesterday.  I felt good, and was ready to get it done!

I am doing very well today!!  I am home (this was out patient surgery, so I came home yesterday), and have very little pain.  It has been easily controlled with ibuprofen. 

We didn't get to talk with the doc after the surgery yesterday - the best we could figure, the frantic couple who came in while Mom, Dad, and Steve were waiting to talk to the doc was her next appointment for surgery, and they were late.  I know the OR was reserved for specific times, so we think she had to get in to do that surgery right away.  When we said something to the nurses in recovery about not having spoken with the doc, they said that was odd (and she had said she would go out to talk to the family after the surgery ), and went to find her, but she was already in the next surgery.   They said they would say something to her,  so I halfway expect to hear from her this weekend sometime.  They made sure they had my number.

My post op appointment is Thursday,  which is when I'll find out if she got clean margins,  meaning she got all the cancer.   If she did, I will be done with surgery.   If she didn't,  she'll have to go back in.  We are hopeful that she got it all.

I am thrilled that I am feeling so well today. The nurse had said I would probably feel yucky today and tomorrow,  but so far that has not been the case!  Thank you all for all your prayers - I am sure they are part of the reason I am having such an easy recovery!   God is good all the time, but I am always thankful when He allows things to be a little easier for a time 😊!

In His care,
Sherri